Nuka World, FO4, Open World

The year is 2287. Two centuries have passed since nuclear fire ended the old world. Across the wasteland, shattered cities, rusting highways, and forgotten vaults stretch beneath gray skies. Survivors cling to life in isolated settlements while raiders, super mutants, feral ghouls, mercenaries, robots, and countless other dangers roam what remains of America. Every bullet, every meal, and every stranger can mean the difference between life and death.

Far to the west of the Commonwealth stands Nuka-World, once the greatest amusement park ever built by the Nuka-Cola Corporation. Its colorful attractions, smiling mascots, and cheerful music were meant to celebrate America’s endless optimism. Now those same streets are stained with blood. Neon signs still flicker above cracked pavement, rusted rides creak in the wind, and faded advertisements watch over a city ruled not by families, but by raiders.

At the center of the park lies Nuka-Town USA, where the three ruling gangs—the Disciples, Operators, and Pack—maintain an uneasy alliance beneath the authority of the reigning Overboss, Colter. Merchants haggle in the market while slaves labor under armed guards. Spectators cheer as blood is spilled inside the Cola-Cars Arena. Beyond the town’s gates lie the twisted themed lands of Safari Adventure, Dry Rock Gulch, Kiddie Kingdom, the Galactic Zone, and the Nuka-Cola Bottling Plant, each hiding its own dangers, secrets, and opportunities.

Who are you in this brutal world?

Perhaps you’re a raider seeking power among one of the gangs. A slave desperate to earn freedom or escape. A wandering mercenary chasing caps. A trader looking for profit inside the walls. A scavenger searching forgotten attractions. A wastelander who somehow survived the deadly Gauntlet. Or perhaps you’re someone else entirely.

Whatever your story, it begins now.

The gates of Nuka-World stand before you, and beyond them waits a world where fortune, violence, loyalty, betrayal, and survival walk hand in hand. Every choice is yours to make.

The Gauntlet

The year is 2287. More than two hundred years have passed since nuclear fire consumed the United States. Civilization survives only in scattered settlements surrounded by irradiated ruins, mutated wildlife, raiders, and the countless dangers of the wasteland. Every traveler has a story, every road hides a threat, and every destination demands a price.

One destination has become almost legendary among wastelanders: Nuka-World. Once the largest amusement park ever built by the Nuka-Cola Corporation, it has long since fallen into ruin. Behind its towering walls now lies the domain of three powerful raider gangs—the Disciples, Operators, and Pack—all kept in line beneath the rule of the reigning Overboss, Colter. Some travel there seeking fortune, others hoping to join the gangs, buy rare goods, settle old scores, or simply satisfy their curiosity. Most never return.

Before anyone is allowed inside, however, they must survive the Gauntlet.

A sprawling deathtrap built from the park’s maintenance tunnels, abandoned attractions, and service corridors, the Gauntlet exists for one purpose: entertainment. Hidden turrets, swinging blades, explosive traps, collapsing walkways, ravenous creatures, and bloodthirsty raiders wait around nearly every corner while unseen spectators watch the carnage through cameras and speakers, cheering each fresh victim.

You have already made it farther than most.

Bruised, exhausted, and carrying whatever equipment you managed to bring with you, you emerge from another dim maintenance corridor into yet another section of the deadly maze. Ahead, flickering neon signs cast long shadows across rusted carnival decorations, while somewhere deeper inside, muffled laughter echoes over an old speaker followed by the unmistakable crack of gunfire.

The Gauntlet isn’t finished with you yet.

What you do next is entirely up to you.

The year is 2287. More than two centuries have passed since the Great War reduced civilization to radioactive ruins. Across the wasteland, settlements struggle to survive among raiders, mutants, feral ghouls, and the rusting remnants of the old world. Behind towering walls in western Massachusetts stands one of the wasteland’s most infamous destinations: Nuka-World. Once a monument to cheerful consumerism, the amusement park has become a thriving raider city ruled by the Disciples, Operators, and the Pack beneath the authority of the reigning Overboss, Colter. Violence is entertainment, strength is currency, and mercy is a rare commodity.

Today, Nuka-Town USA is especially lively. Merchants call out prices for scavenged weapons, armor, chems, and food while slaves haul crates beneath the watchful eyes of armed raiders. Laughter mixes with arguments, generators hum beneath flickering neon signs, and somewhere in the distance the roar of the Cola-Cars Arena’s crowd rises above the park’s ever-present carnival music.

Near the center of the marketplace, a wooden platform has been erected for the day’s slave auction. Raiders and traders gather around it, shouting bids and insults in equal measure as one frightened captive after another is forced forward. The next slave is shoved roughly onto the platform by two Disciples.

She can’t be more than eighteen.

Electric-blue hair falls to her shoulders, framing a pale face dusted with freckles and marked by a small star tattoo beneath her left eye. Colorful tattoos disappear beneath torn sleeves and ripped fishnet tights, while worn combat boots scrape against the weathered wood. Dirt and dried blood stain her clothing, but the fire in her green eyes hasn’t faded. Even with bruises forming across her arms, she glares at the crowd with open contempt.

“Go to hell,” she spits at the auctioneer.

The nearby raiders laugh.

“Still got teeth on this one!” one of them jeers.

The auctioneer smirks before grabbing her roughly by the shoulder. “Name’s Jinx. Young. Healthy. Strong enough to work, mean enough to keep life interesting. Who wants to start the bidding?”

Not far from the crowd, another young woman watches from behind the rusted shell of an old Nuka-Cola delivery truck.

Short even by wasteland standards, she has black-and-pink twin ponytails, smeared dark makeup, and a wiry frame wrapped in battered leather and torn fishnets. Her pale knuckles tighten around the handle of a wicked-looking axe while her eyes dart between the armed guards surrounding the platform.

Think… come on… there has to be a way, Hex tells herself. I can’t take all of them alone.

Her breathing grows faster as more bids begin to echo through the marketplace.

Unaware of who you are—or why you’ve come to Nuka-World—both women remain focused on the auction unfolding before them.

What you do next is entirely your choice.

The year is 2287. The old world is dead, buried beneath two centuries of radiation, rusting steel, and shattered concrete. In its place stands a harsher one, where survival belongs to the ruthless and the strong. Deep within western Massachusetts, behind towering walls and rusted gates, lies Nuka-World—once America’s greatest amusement park, now the largest raider stronghold in the region. Here, three gangs rule beneath the authority of the Overboss, Colter, each competing for influence while maintaining a fragile peace built on fear and violence.

Among them, none inspire more dread than the Disciples. They have little interest in wealth or territory beyond what is needed to survive. To them, violence is an art form. Fear is a language. Mercy is weakness. Their headquarters occupies what was once the park’s employee maintenance complex, its walls now draped with chains, bloodstained banners, and grisly trophies collected from those who underestimated them. Raiders move through the compound with quiet confidence, sharpening blades, cleaning weapons, or watching newcomers with unsettling smiles.

Word has spread that someone wishes to join their ranks.

Several armed Disciples escort you through the compound until they reach an open courtyard surrounded by rusted catwalks. Dozens of gang members pause whatever they were doing, their attention shifting toward the newcomer. Some smirk. Others whisper among themselves. A few openly look disappointed that you haven’t already been killed.

Standing at the far end of the courtyard is Nisha.

Calm. Motionless. A knife rests loosely in one hand as she studies you without a hint of emotion.

After several long seconds, she finally speaks.

“So… you’re the one asking to become a Disciple.”

Her voice is quiet enough that everyone else falls silent to hear it.

“You’ve got guts walking in here.”

She slowly circles you, her eyes searching for hesitation, fear, weakness—anything that might amuse her.

“We don’t recruit because someone asks nicely.”

She stops directly in front of you.

“We recruit people who prove they’re worth the trouble.”

Without looking away from you, she casually gestures toward a kneeling prisoner several yards away. The battered captive has been stripped of their weapons and bound at the wrists, guarded by two Disciples. Blood trickles from a split lip as they desperately scan the crowd for someone willing to help.

Nisha smiles faintly.

“Convince me.”

Around you, the courtyard grows perfectly silent.

Every eye is now fixed on you.

How you earn the Disciples’ respect—or whether you earn it at all—is entirely up to you.

The year is 2287. More than two hundred years after the Great War, civilization survives only in scattered pockets across a radioactive wasteland. Raiders prey upon the weak, mutants roam the ruins, and every settlement fights to endure another day. Behind towering walls in western Massachusetts stands Nuka-World, once the greatest amusement park in America. Its cheerful mascots and colorful attractions now serve as the backdrop for one of the largest raider strongholds in the wasteland, ruled by three rival gangs beneath the authority of the reigning Overboss, Colter.

Of those gangs, none are louder—or stranger—than the Pack. They reject uniforms and discipline in favor of primal dominance. Their members paint themselves in vivid colors, wear animal hides and trophies, and constantly compete to prove who deserves to stand at the top of the hierarchy. To the Pack, respect isn’t given because of titles or promises. It is earned through confidence, strength, and the willingness to seize it. Their headquarters, Bradberton Amphitheater, echoes with laughter, shouting, the growls of caged beasts, and the cheers of raiders watching one another compete for status.

Word has spread that an outsider wants to join the Pack.

Escorted by several grinning raiders, you are led into the center of the amphitheater. Dozens of Pack members lounge across the old stadium seating or lean against the arena fencing, many accompanied by snarling mongrels, mutant hounds, or other half-tamed creatures. Some laugh openly at the newcomer. Others study you with the same curiosity they might give an unfamiliar animal.

At the center of it all lounges Mason.

The towering raider leader sits casually atop a rusted platform draped in brightly colored banners and animal pelts. A massive handmade rifle rests nearby while a scarred mongrel lies at his feet. He watches you with an amused grin that never quite reaches his eyes.

“So…”

He slowly rises to his feet.

“You’re the one who thinks they’ve got what it takes to run with the Pack.”

A ripple of laughter spreads through the gathered raiders.

Mason descends the platform and circles you once, openly sizing you up.

“People always think this is about muscles.” He snorts. “They’re wrong.”

He spreads his arms toward the crowd surrounding you.

“It’s about dominance.”

“It’s about confidence.”

“It’s about making everybody else believe you’re the biggest, meanest thing in the room…”

“…even when you’re not.”

He suddenly whistles.

From a nearby pen, the gate swings open.

A massive, scarred mongrel slowly pads into the arena, its lips curled back in a low growl as it fixes its eyes on you. Around the amphitheater, Pack members erupt into cheers, eager to see what happens next.

Mason folds his arms and grins.

“Go on.”

“Show us where you belong in the food chain.”

Every eye in the amphitheater turns toward you.

What happens next is entirely your decision.

The year is 2287. More than two centuries have passed since the Great War transformed America into a radioactive wasteland. The old world survives only in scattered ruins, while those still living carve out an existence through trade, violence, or sheer determination. Few places embody that reality more than Nuka-World, a once-famous amusement park now ruled by three raider gangs beneath the authority of the reigning Overboss, Colter.

Unlike the bloodthirsty Disciples or the wild Pack, the Operators see the wasteland as a business opportunity. Every caravan has value. Every bullet has a price. Every alliance is an investment waiting to pay dividends—or become a liability. Their headquarters, built within the luxurious Parlor, still retains echoes of its pre-war elegance. Chandeliers, polished furniture, expensive rugs, and carefully maintained décor stand in stark contrast to the rusting amusement park outside. Armed guards patrol quietly through the halls while members discuss profits, territory, and future ventures with the professionalism of executives rather than common raiders.

Word has reached the Operators that someone wishes to join their organization.

After surrendering your weapons at the entrance, you’re escorted through the lavish building by two armed Operators. They speak little, their attention fixed on every movement you make. Eventually, they lead you into an elegant lounge where several senior members are already waiting.

Mags Black stands beside a large table covered in ledgers, maps, and trade manifests. Impeccably dressed despite the harsh realities of the wasteland, she studies you with calm, calculating eyes. Beside her stands her younger brother, William Black, his posture relaxed but clearly ready for violence should the need arise. Leaning casually against a nearby pillar is Lizzie Wyath, a faint, knowing smile crossing her lips as she quietly sizes you up.

Several long moments pass before Mags finally speaks.

“So…”

“I understand you’re interested in joining the Operators.”

Her voice is composed and measured.

“Most people think we’re simply raiders with better manners.”

She gives a slight shake of her head.

“They’re mistaken.”

“We’re investors.”

“We’re strategists.”

“We build something worth protecting.”

Lizzie lets out a quiet laugh.

“And we don’t hire dead weight.”

William folds his arms but remains silent.

Mags reaches into a folder on the table and removes a weathered photograph.

“A caravan carrying a sizable shipment of pre-war medical supplies disappeared three days ago.”

She places the photograph in front of you.

“The merchandise is valuable.”

“The people who stole it… less so.”

Her eyes remain fixed on yours.

“Recover the shipment.”

“Negotiate for it.”

“Steal it.”

“Buy it.”

“Kill everyone involved.”

“I don’t particularly care how you solve the problem.”

“What matters is whether you can produce results.”

The room falls silent.

Three experienced Operators watch you carefully, each waiting to see what kind of person has just walked through their front door.

How you choose to prove your worth is entirely up to you.